Chapter 1
The coast is clear!
A child's voice echoes through the bathroom.
I crawl into in the empty bathtub and shut the bath lid. Now I am invincible. He will never find me. Imagining my brother frantically searching for me makes me feel slightly giddy.
Hehehehe . . . !
My stifled giggle echoes against the tile. I press my ear to the bottom of the tub, which feels cool and pleasant. I hear the distant buzzing of cicadas and the sound of my brother rummaging through the storage under the stairs.
Huh?
His footsteps fade as he walks away.
What a dummy! Hehehehe . . . !
But gradually, I start to feel anxious.
What if he never finds me—what then?
The darkness inside the bathtub turns into a tiny black sea. I am swiftly swallowed up, and soon feel like I am drowning . . . It's terrifying.
Instinctively, I move to lift the bath lid—but hearing hurried footsteps, I hastily pull my hands back.
Hang in there . . . !
As I try my best to bear it, I gradually start to drift off.
It feels like I am soaking in lukewarm water.
The sound of cicadas gently melts away.
Medaka? Where are you?
I hear my brother calling for me from somewhere far away. I'm right here, I whisper secretly in my dream. It's as if he hears me; the footsteps come closer. My heart races. The bathroom door opens.
The bath lid is lifted, and bright light pours in—
You found me . . .
What are you saying? You must still be half-asleep.
I grimace and rub my sleepy eyes. My 23-year-old brother stands there, still sporting that mischievous, prankster's grin that he's worn since we were children. His hair is messy, a silly cowlick sticking up as usual.
You sleep like a prize from a UFO claw game.
A UFO claw game . . . ?
I yawn. I had been sleeping in the bathtub, lined with a mat and a futon. Lots of little sheep plushies surround me like packing peanuts. And here I am, hugging the biggest of them.
Come on, breakfast is ready.
My brother knocks on the bathtub and leaves. I press my face into the back of Lammy, my sheep plushie.
Ugh . . .
I roll around for about five minutes before finally getting up.
I see my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Long black hair, light blue pajamas. The dark circles under my eyes make me look just like Lammy. I am quite short, and even to myself, I look very childlike.
When I make my way to the dining room, my brother is already seated at the table. Our family usually eats there, until we set up the winter kotatsu in the living room. Then we eat snuggled underneath it.
I sit opposite my brother. The TV is playing the weather forecast for August 10th here in Koriyama. Around our home in Fukushima Prefecture, they predict the temperature will continue to rise. It will be hotter today than it was yesterday.
Medaka, toast the bread.
My brother, Isaki, wears a dress shirt with his tie undone and hanging loosely.
Toast it yourself . . .
Aren't you the Toast Chief?
In the Isohara family, each child has a designated family job. Incidentally, my brother's job is Bath Cleaning Chief. However, he is currently off duty, since I live in the bathtub.
Reluctantly, I stand up and head to the kitchen.
Good morning, Medaka. How many fried eggs would you like?
My mother, Kujira, is already cooking. She is barrel-chested and sturdy, with a deep, husky voice.
Just one. No bacon, please.
That's always enough to fill me up. My mother looks somewhat exasperated, though.
You'll never grow big and strong eating so little.
I'm done growing, anyways.
Pouting slightly, I return to the table and set the bread in the pop-up toaster. I nearly doze off in the minute it takes for the bread to pop up with a ding. Placing the toasted bread on a plate, I reverently present it to my brother with both hands.
Your toast, my liege.
Thank you, thank you.
Just then, our father strolls in, dressed in his postman's uniform. He's tall and slender like a nurarihyon, a type of yokai resembling an elderly man. They're known for sneaking into people's homes for food and drink. He swipes the freshly warmed toast.
Ah, Dad, that's my bread!
Hm—
Before I know it, my father has already slathered the bread with jam. He laughs me off with a chuckle.
Ho, ho, ho.
You damn yokai . . . I mutter under my breath.
Aren't you forgetting about your diabetes?
He is the type of yokai who takes metformin after every meal due to high blood sugar. Nevertheless, Dad starts munching on his bread after neatly primping his prized mustache, as if he had not heard a thing.
I puff up my cheeks, slightly annoyed. After setting a new slice of bread in the toaster, I help Mom carry the plates over to the table. Bacon and eggs, salad, toast, and miso soup. Mom always includes miso soup, no matter the rest of the menu. The table now set, I sit down and begin to eat as mom starts chatting away.
Looks like it's going to be another beautiful day.
It's a good day to dry laundry. Speaking of which, I heard those washing machines with built-in dryers are really good. Mrs. Tanaka has one—
Yeah.
Mmm.
Dad's replies are so lackluster, it is hard to tell if he is actually listening.
It's fine when it's sunny, but it's quite inconvenient, since we can't use the bathroom dryer.
Mom glances over at me.
Medaka, isn't it about time you got out of the bathtub?
It was an unexpected shot. My miso soup goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough and splutter.
It's been three months now. Three whole months.
Uh . . . I'm not quite ready yet . . .
Why don't you try getting out? You might be surprised; you might be okay now. Isn't that right, honey?
A sputtering sneaks from dad's chair, followed by an unpleasant smell.
Oh come on, don't reply with a fart!
Mom scrunches up her face and waves her hands frantically.
Whoa! Don't send it this way!
Dad laughs. He sounds a little embarrassed, but clearly enjoying himself.
Ho, ho, ho.
Thanks for the meal.
Seizing the chaos, I make my escape to the kitchen, lightly rinse my dishes, and drop them into the washbasin.
Ah, Medaka, wait a moment!
I dash upstairs to my room, which is still cluttered with half-unpacked cardboard boxes. I moved to Sendai for a job in April, but I came right back in mid-May and promptly relocated my existence to the bathtub. I have not finished unpacking.
I open a few boxes before finally finding what I was looking for.
My elementary school graduation album from Sakuragaoka.
Feeling nostalgic, I open it to take a peek inside. I have not changed much since then, especially the expression on my face like I'm eating a sour candy. There is a photo of Aoi Hasegawa next to mine.
Medaka!
At the sudden call of my name, I put down the album. There, on the neighboring balcony stands Aoi, with the same puppy-like innocent smile he wore in the album. His naturally curly, bright chestnut hair reminds me of a toy poodle, as does the tail-wagging like way he waves his arm.
Good morning! Haha, you've got bed head!